Ghost
by spns
Summary: A Supernatural story with a twist. After Sam and Dean are killed by a demon with some big plans, an old friend gives them a second chance. The only drawback? They can't have their human bodies back, and they're stuck roaming the Earth as ghosts.
1. Chapter 1

**I know I literally JUST finished my last fic a couple hours ago, but I started this one a while back and I just finished writing it. You know how you get all excited when you finally finish a fic? Well, I didn't want to wait a few days before posting this one. I really hope you guys enjoy this, because I had a lot of fun writing it!**

**I started writing this before the season 6 finale, so in this story the finale never happened.**

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><p>"I heard there's a poltergeist in Michigan." Sam said quietly. They were currently in Wisconsin. It was a warm summer evening and the waves crashed softly against the dock where they sat.<p>

"You _heard_, huh?"

"Yeah."

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose. "And what exactly do you want to do about it, Sam?"

A few seagulls flew by overhead and a soft breeze gently rustled the leaves on the trees. Dean took a deep breath of fresh air and watched as the sky turned yellow, then orange, then red. Somewhere in the distance, a loon cried. When Sam spoke again, Dean had almost forgotten about the conversation.

"I mean, we could go..." Sam's voice trailed off.

"Yeah? And what? _Talk_ to it? Come on, Sam. We don't do that anymore."

Sam sighed heavily and leaned back to rest on his elbows. "Yeah."

Dean grinned playfully and nudged his brother lightly. "What, you don't like watching the sunset with me? Sammy, my feelings are hurt."

Sam smiled back, but Dean could see the longing in his eyes. Dean felt it too, but the simple fact was there was nothing they could do about the poltergeist in Michigan, or the rugaru in Florida that Dean had brought up a few weeks ago, or any other supernatural thing anymore. They lived as hunters, they died as hunters – hell, they even saved the world once or twice – but ultimately, they were nothing more than a couple of lost spirits themselves.

In the end, it was a demon that got them. Some dick named Acham, who had big dreams to become king of Hell after the Winchesters had killed off Crowley once and for all. It was a never ending battle. After Acham there would have been some other big bad up-and-coming. Sometimes Dean wondered, if things had worked out differently and he had survived, would he have sold his soul again to save his brother? He quickly decided that yes, he definitely would have. But that wasn't the way the cards were dealt.

The world as Dean knew it ended in a brilliant blaze of orange flame. An explosion in an old abandoned warehouse - a trap set up by Acham. Dean remembered the heat, and it reminded him in a way of the night their mother had died, but this time Dean didn't carry Sam out. This time there was nobody to save either of them. He remembered hearing Sam screaming his name seconds before the explosion, then the heat, then everything went black.

The next thing Dean remembered was a garden. He was sitting on a white bench in a clearing, surrounded by weeping willows and wildflowers. Cas was there, and for a moment Dean almost forgot the terms they had parted on and the time that had passed since he last saw the angel, and he almost jumped up and went to Cas, maybe intending to hug him, maybe just to apologize for how wrong everything had gone. Instead, he simply said his name.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Was all Castiel said in response.

The war in Heaven hadn't ended like either of them had hoped, and when everything was said and done, the only thing they had accomplished was ruining their friendship and losing another member of their already tiny family. Maybe Dean should have trusted Castiel and his decision to work with Crowley. Maybe Cas should have listened to Dean and left Crowley alone. Maybe if they had just worked _together_ things would have turned out differently, but in the end Raphael won the war and all the angels went back to Heaven. Raphael even allowed Cas back in Heaven. Dean wasn't sure why. He never asked the angel about it. They hadn't even spoken in years, and now here they were. Together in some random garden.

As it turned out, Dean was dead. Died in the explosion. This was Heaven, or at least the reception area. Raphael explained that Dean was allowed a place in Heaven, but that Sam was not. After all these years, Dean always believed that Sam had earned himself a spot in Heaven. In fact, he believed that Sam deserved it more than himself. What had Dean done besides aggravate Zachariah and say no to Michael? It was _Sam _who jumped into Hell with Lucifer. It was _Sam _who stopped the apocalypse. I mean, sure, Sam was the one who let Lucifer out in the first place, but Dean was the one who had set everything into motion. And that was Dean's point exactly – they had both done _so much_. Some good, some bad. It was all too confusing to keep track of who was on the naughty or nice list, so Dean figured they should both be cut some slack and allowed to at least have an easy afterlife. But of course, things neverworked out the way Dean wanted them to.

Dean refused Raphael's offer. There was no way he was going to leave Sam in Hell and enjoy the rest of – well, forever – in Heaven alone. He argued, but arguing with the head angel in Heaven is like trying to move a desert one single grain of sand at a time, and eventually Raphael got tired of it and simply zapped Dean into his own personal afterlife.

Time is different in Heaven, and Dean had no idea how long he'd been there. It seemed like a couple weeks in Heaven time, but it could have been years, months, days, or even just minutes in the real world. Dean's Heaven consisted of beautiful scenery, roads that went on forever, and an endless supply of cheeseburgers, pie and beer. He had the Impala, but the passenger seat next to him was always empty. Dean was lonely. Some days he hoped that Ash would come find him. Some days he was angry that Ash _didn't_ come find him. _He has that little Heaven-jumping machine doesn't he? What's he so busy doing that he can't even stop by and say hello?_ But most days, Dean just drove.

It was sunset one particular day – though it seemed that the majority of every day was a sunset in Heaven– when Castiel showed up suddenly and filled the ever-empty passenger seat.

"Cas?" Dean was surprised, but more than anything he was just glad to have company, and he struggled to keep the excitement out of his voice as he spoke. "What are you doing here?"

"This is Heaven." Cas said simply. "I'm an angel. I belong here."

"Yeah, I mean what are you doing _here _here. In _my_ Heaven?"

"I've come to make you an offer. I know that you miss Sam. If you'd like, I could reunite you."

"You could?" To hell with trying to control his excitement, Dean was ecstatic. "Cas, I... but how? Would you bring him here?"

"No."

Dean's face dropped. "Hell then?" He wasn't exactly partial on the idea of going back to Hell, but if it meant he got to be with Sam he could endure it. Maybe together they could find a way to break out. I mean, if the demons could do it.

"No." Cas said again. "Not Hell."

Dean didn't want to get his hopes up, but not Heaven and not Hell? As far as he knew they had never found Purgatory. That meant... "Earth?" He croaked, barely a whisper.

"Yes." Castiel's face was stoic as he continued to stare straight ahead out the windshield of the Impala.

Dean's mind raced with the possibilities. Cas was going to bring him and Sam back to life, and Dean was going to take Sam and run and never look back. They would stop hunting, maybe even get a place somewhere. Dean could get a job as a mechanic. Sam could go back to school if he wanted – he could meet a girl and have babies. _Dean could be an uncle. _Or maybe they could keep driving. Traveling. Safe places. They could go to the Grand Canyon and stop at Sea World and see the world's biggest ball of twine. Maybe they could go to some museum – Sam would like that. _They could have a life. _

But why would Cas bring them back? Would he do it just out of the goodness of his heart? Maybe before – but now?

"What's the catch?"

"I cannot give you back your human bodies." Cas said. "You would be spirits."

Dean blinked. "Spirits? Like, ghosts? As in the things we used to hunt?" Surely he had misunderstood.

Cas finally turned his head to look at Dean. "Yes, Dean, spirits. Ghosts."

Okay, so maybe it wasn't perfect, but it wasn't Hell, and he would get to be with Sam – but spirits? This kind of went against everything Dean knew. Though, ghosts didn't _have_ to be bad. The only ghosts they hunted were the bad ones. If they could just stay out of trouble – not haunt anybody or pull any of that 'angry spirit' nonsense.

"Of course you would be allowed certain privileges." Cas said. "You will not be tied to one place or object – you will be free to roam the earth as you please."

_Grand Canyon, _Dean thought.

"But Dean, like any spirit, you can also be killed. Since I'm sending you back to Earth, I don't believe that burning your bones would send you back here. It would just be an endless cycle. Perhaps you will go to Purgatory, or you may just cease to exist. I can't be sure. This isn't something I've ever done before."

"Right. No hiding in attics and rattling chains." Dean said, but Cas wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"Things like iron and salt will affect you. With practice you may be able to move things, and eventually manifest, but I strongly advise against it."

"I know the drill, Cas. I used to hunt the things, remember?"

Cas pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded once. "I shouldn't be doing this."

"Why _are _you doing this?"

"Contrary to what you may believe, everything I ever did was to protect you. I never stopped considering you as a friend, and I'm sorry that I betrayed your trust. I'm doing this, Dean, because you are still my family."

Dean was at a loss for words. "Cas–" He said softly, but the angel cut him off with a soft touch to the forehead, and then he was in another garden. Only this time there were birds and children playing in a nearby park and the sounds of cars as they drove by on the highway. _Earth. _The realization hit, and Dean was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. _I'm home. _And there, just a few feet away by an oak tree – an actual living oak tee – was a familiar figure. Tall and strong, with shaggy brown hair and the most hilarious, bewildered look on his face.

_Sam._

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><p>Roaming the earth as a ghost got lonely. Okay, it was better than Hell, but in Hell Sam never felt lonely – there was too much pain to feel anything at all except, well, pain. He wasn't complaining though. Sam would pick loneliness on Earth over pain in Hell any day. At least Dean was here. Dean was really all Sam needed, but he had always been a people person. He missed people. Mostly he just missed being able to <em>occasionally<em> talk to someone other than Dean, because believe it or not, Dean wasn't always the best conversationalist.

"I'm telling ya, Sammy. I mean, Tarzan supposedly lived his entire life with a bunch of monkeys in the friggin jungle, I don't think he ever learned to shave."

They were on a beach in Miami. It was early, but a few bikini clad girls were already out. Dean loved beaches. And sun. Now that they were able to basically teleport anywhere they felt like going, they spent a lot of time on beaches. Of course, Sam knew the only reason was because of the half-naked girls. It was as much as he would let Dean get away with, and Sam thought that if he weren't around, Dean would probably be hanging out at strip clubs and in models' dressing rooms.

They had been to the Grand Canyon and to the top of the Statue of Liberty. The Eiffel Tower, Stonehenge, The Taj Mahal and Mount Everest. They had walked the halls of the White House and watched the sun rise from the top of the pyramids in Egypt. It had been exciting at first, but the novelty had quickly worn off. _If we had _anything _else to do, _Sam thought. He couldn't believe it, but sometimes he missed hunting. He had even mentioned to Dean a couple of hunts that he thought maybe they could check out, though he knew they couldn't. Not only because there wasn't really anything they would be able to do, but also because it wasn't a smart idea to be hanging out in a place where there would likely be other hunters on the look out for something supernatural.

Sam sighed. "It's a movie, Dean."

"Yeah but where's the research, huh? They could at least _try _to make it believable. The man should have a beard!"

Sam was beginning to understand why ghosts got angry.

After Cas had revealed that he was working with Crowley, everything went downhill – and fast. Sam didn't feel that they could trust Cas anymore, and that seemed to be the general consensus with Dean and Bobby as well. They stopped calling Cas for help, and Cas stopped coming to them. They lost touch with the war in Heaven, and always seemed to be a step behind Crowley.

Balthazar informed them of the big final showdown in Heaven. Raphael had won the war and he was ordering all the angels back to Heaven. "Cas is going back, too." Balthazar said. It was all he said about their former angel friend, and then he disappeared. It was the last time they ever saw him.

Sam and Dean waited for something to happen. With Raphael in charge, they expected another apocalypse. Maybe Lucifer and Michael would be set free again to finish what was supposed to happen at Stull Cemetery. Maybe there would be a full-out war with Hell. Angels vs Demons. They waited, but nothing happened, and eventually Sam just figured that there was now a new plan in motion. One that involved a dooms day many lifetimes from now. Angels lived forever – well, mostly – and they had all the time in the universe to perfect the next apocalypse.

Eventually they caught up with Crowley. With Cas out of the picture and the war over, Crowley was beginning to get desperate for Purgatory, and in his desperation he made a few minor but fatal mistakes. This time Sam and Dean made sure they had the right bones.

After Crowley, things were quiet for exactly two months, and then a new demon came knocking on their door – literally. Acham was evil and clever and fearless. He had one goal in mind, to become the new king of Hell, and he was ready and willing to kill anything that got in his way. Acham's first move was to simply introduce himself. He showed up at Bobby's one afternoon, and after they tried killing him, he threw them all up against the wall and explained that he didn't want any trouble and that they should stay away if they knew what was best for them. Of course, they didn't. What made Acham different from just about everything else the Winchesters hunted was that he didn't hide in the shadows and sneak around. He did his business out in the open, and when someone got in the way he dealt with them. In the end, it was what got them. An explosion in a decoy building. A trap. It wasn't Acham's style, and that was exactly why they fell for it.

Sam remembered the fire – the fire that never ended. After the explosion, it was the flames of Hell licking his skin. The screams and the heat and the pain – for decades it was all Sam knew, and most days Sam didn't have the energy to wonder what had happened, or where Dean was. He only prayed that Dean had survived or made it to Heaven. He knew that Dean deserved his place in Heaven, but with Raphael running the show, Sam couldn't be sure of anything. Sometimes he tried to look past the flames, sometimes he called out for Dean, but he never really wanted to hear a reply. The only thing keeping him going was the hope that somewhere, be it Heaven or Earth, Dean wasn't suffering.

Then, one day, the pain stopped. Instead of hell fire, Sam felt nothing. Instead of screams, he heard birds and people. He opened his eyes. A garden. Was this a joke? Sam didn't think that demons were big on giving people a day off from eternal torture. Still, here he was on a summer evening in a park full of living, breathing, _happy _things. Sam turned to take in the beautiful change of scenery and there he was. Sitting on a park bench with a grin on his face, looking for all the world like he had been there all along, just waiting.

_Dean._

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! I hope it was interesting enough to catch your attention ;). <strong>**Don't worry, Sam and Dean aren't going to just spend all their time sightseeing****!**_  
><em>


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes it's easy to forget how lucky you are, because at some point you had something different, and a part of you will always want that back. The problem is, when you had that different thing, there was something _else_ that you wanted. Being a ghost paled in comparison to being alive, but Dean sometimes forgot how much better it was than being alone in Heaven – how lucky he was that he got to be with Sam.

The Grand Canyon was cool. Something that they had never had the luxury of enjoying when they were alive. And they even went to some nerdy museum, for Sam of course. Dean would never admit that he enjoyed some of the exhibits, but there was this mummy thing... man, it would have been cool to hunt mummies. Nevertheless, days are long when you have no purpose and nights are even longer when you don't sleep. The boredom alone had them both itching after just a couple short weeks, and they both kept bringing up hunts, just waiting for the other one to say no. Even though they both wanted it, one of them _had_ to say no. There was nothing they could do on a hunt except get themselves into trouble.

"You know what we should do?" Dean said one day. It had been ten months since they were zapped back to Earth as ghosts. Nearly a year of checking out tourist attractions and sitting on beaches. "We should go check on Bobby. See what he's up to."

"You're kidding, right?" Sam quirked an eyebrow at Dean. "Bobby's a _hunter_. Isn't that exactly what we've been trying to avoid?"

"Come on, Sammy. He wont even know we're there. And if he does, he's not gonna salt and burn our bones. It'll be fine."

"Oh, so you want to spy on him?" Leave it to Sam to find the moral dilemma in every situation.

"No, not _spy._ It's not like I want to follow him into the bathroom. We can just stop by and see what he's up to."

After a moment Sam shrugged and nodded. "Yeah." He said. "Okay."

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><p>Sam wasn't sure about the idea. When they found out that Cas had been spying on them, none of them had been too happy about it. Of course, he was also working with a demon and trying to open Purgatory, in effect releasing tons of new monsters into the world. Still, nobody liked being watched without their knowledge. Maybe this was a little different. They were just going to see what Bobby had been up to. No harm, no foul... right? It didn't matter. Life, or whatever, was like the Tuesday time loop that Gabriel had stuck them in so long ago. The same day over and over and over, and Sam <em>needed <em>something different. They both did.

Bobby's place was basically the same as they remembered it – maybe a few more empty bottles laying around. Bobby was sitting at the desk with an open laptop, and he tensed immediately when Sam and Dean entered the room. The experienced hunter knew something was off, and he quickly reached for the shotgun laying on the table next to him. He checked that it was loaded and then waited.

"I told you this wasn't a good idea, Dean." Sam said. They should have known Bobby would notice the temperature change. Maybe after all this time off, they really were getting rusty.

"Oh calm down, Sam." Dean replied. "As long as we don't start throwing things around the room he's not going to do anything. He _can't." _

"Not the point. We're making him uncomfortable. Maybe we should go."

"Don't be a baby. He'll be fine. See? He's already calmed down." Sure enough, Bobby was back on the computer, but he kept the shotgun resting on his lap just in case. "Let's see what Bobby's looking at." Dean walked around the desk until he was standing behind Bobby. He raised his eyebrows. "Bobby! I never knew you were into that kinky stuff!"

"Oh, god." Sam groaned. This was a bad idea.

"Relax, Sammy." Dean laughed. "I'm just kidding. He's on the website for the Fargo newspaper. Looks like there's been some reports of missing people."

Okay, so Bobby was researching a hunt. _Thank god. _

Sam moved around the house reading visible pages of open books and looking over newspaper clippings and photographs that Bobby had saved and tacked to a wall. Dean sat contentedly on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. It seemed that, even though he was still doing nothing, the familiarity of it made him happy.

"Look at this." Sam leaned closer to a newspaper clipping on the wall. The article was about a fire in a hospital that killed twenty-three. The accompanying photo was of a group of people, the caption read '_Onlookers watch as firefighters attempt to put out the fire.', _and right in the middle of the group was a familiar face. "It's Acham."

"Bobby's still hunting that son-of-a-bitch?"

"Well sure. He killed us. Bobby's probably taking that kind of personally. And either way, he's not the type of person who gives up on a hunt."

"Well he'd better be careful." Dean frowned. "I don't know if Cas would zap his spirit back to Earth, too."

Bobby started packing things up – guns and salt and iron and a first aid kit and matches. He was getting ready for the hunt he had been researching on the computer, and Dean's eyes followed every move the older hunter made as he shuffled around the house. Sam noticed the look of determination on Dean's face.

"What are you thinking?" Sam asked cautiously.

Dean's face was set, and he replied in a serious tone. "Let's go with him."

This was a bad idea. A bad, _bad _idea. Coming to Bobby's had been risky enough. They weren't supposed to be around hunters, even old friends like Bobby. They weren't supposed to get in the way. They were supposed to mind their own business and enjoy the rest of eternity together... alone. Okay, so maybe going to Bobby's hadn't ended in fire and brimstone like Sam had worried, but surely going along on a hunt was pushing it. It would be all too easy for Bobby to make a mistake and... and what? Shoot them with rock salt? Even if they _could_ show themselves to Bobby, which they couldn't, the most he could do would be to get them with some salt or iron. Bobby would have to be damn sure he knew what he was doing before he burned their bones. That wasn't something that was going to happen on accident. Still, what if they got in the way? What if Bobby sensed they were there and it distracted him from the real hunt?

"I don't know, Dean..."

"Ah come on, Sam! Hey, maybe we can fight the ghost with our bare hands. I mean, we're both spirits right?" Dean was excited.

"If we can fight the ghost that means it can fight us back."

"Yeah but we could totally take it. Come _on, _Sammy!"

Sam had to admit the idea was exciting, but he was supposed to say no. That was the drill. When one of them suggested a hunt, the other brought them back to reality. What if they got in the way? What if they couldn't do anything at all? Then again, what if they _could _fight the ghost? _What if they could kill it? _They could be hunters again. They could _do _something. And even if they got there and ended up being completely useless, well hell, at least it was something to do.

"Yeah." Sam said finally.

"Yeah?" Dean looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Yeah." Sam repeated. "Lets go with."

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><p>They sat in the back of the Impala as Bobby drove. It was strange to be traveling in a car again when they were able to just zap themselves anywhere they wanted to go, but they didn't know where exactly Bobby was headed, and besides, it was <em>the Impala. <em>At first, Dean was surprised to see his old car sitting in front of Bobby's. Then, he was even more surprised when Bobby began loading his equipment into the trunk, but after he got over the shock, he was glad Bobby was using the Impala. And why shouldn't he use it? Dean had said many times, to Sam _and _Bobby, that if anything ever happened to him they'd better take care of his car. Dean couldn't imagine her spending the rest of her days sitting in a junk yard or used up for parts. He was glad she was still hunting, and who better to take care of her than Bobby, the ex-mechanic turned hunter.

It wasn't a long ride, an hour and a half at most, but it was quiet. Bobby didn't talk – who would he talk to? And he didn't play the radio. They sat in silence for miles. Dean stared out the window and watched as trees whizzed by. If he tried, he could imagine that everything was back to normal. It was good, _so good, _and Dean felt a bit sad when the car finally came to a stop and the engine died.

"Looks like we're here." Sam said as they both ghosted through the cars doors and went to stand by Bobby.

Bobby pulled out a shotgun loaded with rock salt and an EMF meter.

"Great." Sam complained. "We're gonna make that thing go crazy."

They watched as Bobby turned on the device and it lit up. Bobby's eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder, shotgun ready.

"Lets go inside." Dean said quickly.

The inside of the old brick building wasn't much to look at. It was old and crumbling, with desks and chalkboards in the rooms – the only indication that at one time the building used to be a school. Lately, it was just a place that kids snuck into on a dare and never came back from. Four high school students had disappeared over the past three months, and all of them were last seen going into the school.

"Is it weird that I'm a ghost but this place still creeps me out?" Dean asked, but Sam ignored him.

Bobby came in moments later and once again the EMF went berserk. He raised the gadget and began carefully and methodically moving around, trying to find where the EMF was the strongest. Sam and Dean followed, careful to stay out of the direct path of the meter. They made it through the first floor, then up the stairs. The second level was clear, another flight of stairs. Once they reached the top of the second set of stairs, Dean immediately noticed a man standing at the opposite end of the hallway. He was tall and thin, with pale skin, jet black hair that he had pulled back into a small pony tail, and a goatee that came to a point.

"Well if he doesn't just scream bad guy..." Dean paused when he realized that Bobby hadn't taken notice of the man, and was slowly making his way down the hall _toward_ him. "Uh, you see that guy, right Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam answered quickly. "But I don't think Bobby does."

In one swift motion the tall-evil-ghost-man was standing directly in front of Bobby. The EMF meter went nuts, but before Bobby could do anything, ghost-man pushed hard against Bobby's chest and Bobby fell backwards to the ground with an oomph.

"We _gotta_ learn how to do that." Dean said before rushing to Bobby's side and looking ghost-man straight in his face. "Hey!" He shouted. "I know you can see me. Why not come over here and fight me like a man – er, ghost. Whatever." Dean raised his fists and lowered himself into a fighting stance.

Ghost-man smiled and knocked Dean away with one mighty swing of his arm. Dean retaliated with a hard punch to the stomach and almost cheered when his fist made contact. He looked to Sam with a triumphant grin and Sam exhaled sharply in surprise. Ghost-man came back for another attack, but this time Sam was there to help, and together they were an even match for the more experienced ghost. On the ground, Bobby had his shotgun aimed at the empty space where ghost-man should have been. He scrambled to his feet and blinked in confusion when nothing more came after him. Suddenly ghost-man flickered, and Dean saw Bobby's eyes widen. _He can see him, _Dean raised the shotgun. Dean looked back to ghost-man and froze when he saw that Sam was in between Bobby and the target. Bobby squeezed one eye shut as he aimed.

"Sam, look out!" Dean shouted a warning, but it was too late. The rock salt round pierced through Sam, then through ghost-man, before hitting the wall. Dean watched in horror as Sam flickered and then disappeared, ghost-man along with him.

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><p>It wasn't painful. Okay, the initial shot hurt, and the disappearing thing was unpleasant, but then there was just nothingness. No senses at all. Sam could still think, he was still conscious, but there was no light, no sound, no sense of time. Sam had absolutely no idea how long he had been there, in the nothingness. It didn't feel like minutes or days or years, he was just there. But then a tingling sensation started in his toes and fingertips. It reminded Sam of the pins and needles feeling you get when your foot falls asleep. The feeling moved into his feet and hands, then his arms and legs. As it made it's way closer to his torso, it intensified from a small buzzing to an almost electric shock. It soon filled him, and then it became painful. His whole body shook, and just when Sam thought he would explode from the intensity of it, it stopped. He opened his eyes gasping, and there was Dean and Bobby and a second later the ghost reappeared. Bobby had lowered the rifle, but he was still scanning the room as though he expected to be attacked at any moment, and Dean was still standing a few feet away with his mouth hanging open. It couldn't have been more than ten seconds that Sam was gone.<p>

"Sam, you okay?" Dean asked.

"I never want to do that again."

Dean nodded. As strange as it sounded, this wasn't their first experience being ghosts. Once, a psychic named Pamela had temporarily sent them to the spirit world to figure out what had happened to the Reapers in a town where nobody died. They had both been hit with the rock salt then, and Sam didn't need to remind Dean how uncomfortable the disappearing/reappearing act was, or how unnerving it was to be stuck in the nothingness, and to have no idea how long you'd been there, or how long you were staying.

Maybe the ghost realized he was outnumbered, or maybe it was his first time getting into it with a hunter, because he was suddenly gone again. Sam couldn't guess where he could have disappeared to – after all, spirits were supposed to be tied to the place they haunted – but he definitely wasn't with them on the third floor.

"We should leave." Sam nodded to Bobby who was once again holding out the EMF meter as he made his way slowly down the hall. "Maybe if we go, that thing will shut off and Bobby can get out of here."

Dean agreed and they were instantly outside. It had started raining since they entered the school, and Dean flicked his wrists like he was trying to shake off water. "Oh _man." _He complained, and then he was in the back seat of the Impala. Sam joined him a second later.

"So we can fight ghosts." Sam said with a tilt of his head.

"Awesome." Dean agreed.

A few minutes later, Bobby came out of the school shaking his head.

"I bet we ruined his day." Dean nodded toward Bobby as he tossed his equipment back in the trunk and climbed in the car with a scowl on his face.

Sure enough, Bobby was obviously grumpy, and when his phone rang on the way home he answered it and snapped at the person on the other end. "No. I didn't get it... I don't know... I don't _know_... It knocked me down, I shot it with rock salt and then it was gone... yeah I _know _rock salt doesn't kill ghosts... you think I'm an idjit?... yeah, I'll figure it out."

They rode back with Bobby just for the sake of riding in a car. Sam couldn't decide if going to Bobby's had been a good or bad idea. On one hand, it was exciting. And they discovered that they could, in fact, interact with other ghosts. On the other hand, they had kind of ruined the hunt for Bobby. It was just a minor set back, Sam was confident that Bobby would get the job done, but what if more kids wandered into the building in the mean time and were killed? They couldn't allow that to happen.

"We need to go back." Sam said suddenly, and Dean turned from the window to give him a questioning look.

"Back where?"

"To the school. We need to make sure no more kids are killed before Bobby finishes the job."

Dean looked at Sam like he was crazy. "And how are we going to do that? I don't know if you've noticed, Sam, but we don't have any of the _cool_ ghost powers. We can't move things. People can't see us."

"Maybe not, but the ghost can see us. If anyone wanders in there, maybe we can distract him."

Dean lowered his eyebrows and looked to his lap as he considered the plan. "Sounds good." He said at last, and then they were back at the school.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for reading! :)**

* * *

><p>Dean wouldn't admit it to Sam, but he was absolutely delighted to be sitting in the dark in front of the dilapidated old school. They finally had a purpose again. Admittedly, when Dean had punched ghost-man earlier, he wasn't really expecting anything to happen. Sure, he could touch <em>Sam<em>, but he thought that might just be another advantage of Cas' deal. When his fist actually made contact, possibilities flashed through his head. Maybe, with practice, they could get back into hunting. Hell, it might even be _easier_ now that they were ghosts themselves. It definitely made it easier to find the other spirits.

They had left Bobby to figure out his next step and went back to the school to keep an eye out for kids trying to look brave in front of their friends. Now, it was nearly four in the morning and nobody had showed up. Dean wasn't sure if they should go inside and seek out ghost-man. He was obviously more experienced in his ghostly ways, and Dean wasn't sure if there was something ghost-man could do to actually harm him and Sam. Earlier, he hadn't thought it was a necessary risk to take, but now he was beginning to think differently. What could he do besides throw a couple punches? He and Sam were good fighters. They could take him.

"Maybe we should go inside." Dean brought it up casually with a shrug. He didn't want Sam to think there was any reason not to.

"Why?"

"I dunno. Maybe we could talk to him or something." Yeah, that was good. Sam liked talking.

"I don't know, Dean..." Sam frowned slightly and looked up to the crumbling building.

"Ah come on, Sam." Dean smirked. "Live a little."

Sam huffed and dropped his shoulders. "Alright. Lets go."

They walked cautiously through the halls. It felt strange to be doing this without any weapons, but Dean reminded himself that the ghost couldn't kill them – he didn't think – and that even if they wanted to, they couldn't carry weapons with them. When Pamela had sent them into the spirit world for a day, they got a few pointers on how to be a bad-ass ghost from a kid named Cole, who happened to be the last person to die in the town. Still, what they learned was just a few simple things, and the skills didn't stay with them over the following years while they were alive. Dean was sure that they could learn again – how to pick up objects and move things with their minds – but they hadn't felt the need to try.

"We should learn some ghost moves." Dean whispered.

"Shh." Sam warned.

Then he was there. Ghost-man appeared suddenly at the end of the hall just like he had earlier when they were with Bobby, only this time he looked pissed.

"Uh. We're here to talk?" Dean tried, but ghost-man wasn't interested in listening. He charged down the hall toward them and slammed into Dean with the force of a freight train. Dean flew backward and hit the floor with a thud.

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

"Son of a bitch." Dean cursed, and then jumped up before ghost-man could get the upper hand on him again. He retaliated by kicking out the ghost's legs from under him and sending him sprawling to the ground. Dean almost laughed at the sight. This was so weird. Sam sprung into action and grabbed ghost-man's wrists, dragging him up to standing position and pulling his arms behind his back. Dean gave him one more punch in the stomach for good measure. "I _said _we just want to talk."

Ghost-man's lip curled. "What do you want?" He growled.

"What's your name?" Sam pulled ghost-man's arms tighter to show that he wasn't kidding.

"My name?" He smiled a wide, toothy grin. "What, you guys looking to make friends? You've got a funny way of going about it."

"Don't get smart." Dean warned.

Ghost-man tilted his head toward Dean. "Gregory Davis. And who might you two be?"

"We're asking the questions."

"Fine, what would you like to know?"

"Lets start with why you're killing high school kids, Greg." Dean demanded.

Davis sighed. "Why not?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "They asked for it."

"_How?_"

Davis shouldered his way out of Sam's grip and Sam let him go, but positioned himself so that he would be ready if Davis decided to attack again.

"They come in here looking for me." Davis sneered. "This is _my _place. I don't know about you two, but I'm stuck in this spot. They want to tear this place down. But if it goes, I go. I can't let that happen. I figure if I kill a few kids, people will be afraid to come near here."

"Oh sure, because _that's _a healthy solution." Dean said sarcastically.

"Well I had to do something."

"How'd you end up here?" Sam asked. "Did you die here?"

"Yeah." Davis turned his head to Sam with a frown on his face, clearly not happy to be cooperating. "I was murdered here. 1943. I was a custodian at this school, and I caught a teacher having relations with a student. I threatened to tell somebody, but I never got the chance."

"Makes sense." Dean said under his breath. "Janitors are always creepy looking."

Davis glared at Dean. "I'm sorry, _who _exactly are you? And how is it you can come and go as you please?"

"We've got connections." Dean pointed upwards with a smug smile.

Davis looked to the ceiling and then back to Dean with a confused look on his face. "Okay, so now what, boys? Are we just going to sit here playing 20 questions for the rest of eternity?"

"Nah." Dean shot back. "You wont be around that long."

Davis looked more annoyed than threatened. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "Are you going to get your friend to come back and shoot me again? That was unpleasant, but come on. What kind of an idiot tries to shoot a ghost. We're already dead."

So this was definitely Greg Davis' first tango with a hunter. Of course it was. No hunter would have left the job undone. It seemed that Davis didn't even _know_ about hunters, or rock salt, or that ghosts could in fact be killed. Dean could use this to his advantage. He tried to sound casual as he spoke.

"So, Greg, did you go to your funeral at least?"

Now Davis looked shocked. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, usually a ghost is allowed to leave to go to their own funeral." Dean said. Sam raised an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut. "Who wouldn't want to go to their own funeral, right? Come on, Greg. Were there a lot of people? Lots of crying ex-girlfriends?"

"I-I don't..." Davis stammered. "I didn't go."

Dean feigned shock. "What? Oh man, that's a bummer. My funeral was great. I mean, if I weren't dead for it." Davis looked like he had been slapped. Dean continued like he was talking about the weather. "Nicest little spot, too. Do you at least know where you were buried, Greg?"

Understanding flashed in Sam's eyes. After a moment, Davis answered. "Probably Riverside Cemetery. It's where my parents were buried."

The halls of the old school began to take on a yellow glow as the sun rose on the horizon and sunlight began to shine through the windows and holes where the wall had crumbled away. Dean glanced at a window. "Looks like we've got to be going, Greg. Don't go killing any more kids, you got it?"

As they disappeared, they heard Davis yell after them, but they were already gone.

* * *

><p>They checked the cemetery. Sure enough, there was Gregory Davis, 1897-1943. Now if they could just find a way to get Bobby the information.<p>

"We should tell Bobby." Dean voiced Sam's thoughts.

"Yeah." Sam paused. "I mean, I'm sure he would figure it out on his own eventually."

"Sure." Dean agreed. "But it would be so much easier for him..."

"And I don't really want to sit outside that school every night until he does figure it out..." Sam added.

They didn't say anything for a moment. They had been spirits now for nearly a year, and they hadn't tried anything other than the teleporting thing, but there was no way they were _walking _around the world. No moving things though, by hand or by mind. No talking to people, no _appearing_ to people. Cas warned Dean not to. Well, he strongly advised against it. But now, what harm could they do? It's not like they were going to become one of the ghosts that they used to hunt. They weren't going to kill people, or even scare people. Nothing to draw attention to themselves. They could use the skills for good. Sam couldn't see any reason not to.

"You wanna learn ghost stuff?" Sam tilted his head toward Dean, giving him a look that said _if you want to, I'm in._

"Lets learn ghost stuff." Dean grinned.

"Let's learn ghost stuff." Sam agreed.

* * *

><p>Last time, the <em>one <em>other time that they were ghosts, it had only taken a couple hours for them to learn to move things with their minds. Of course, then they had a teacher. But it was just a kid who had only been dead for ten days. If he could do it, surely they would have no problem.

At first, it took quite a bit of concentration to move even the smallest thing. The more they practiced, though, they found that they could move basically anything they wanted – even when they were a little distracted. By the middle of the day, they had perfected the art of moving things with their hands _and_ minds.

"This is so cool." Dean laughed as he watched a sheet of paper float around the room, controlled by his thoughts. "Sammy, why didn't you ever learn to do this when you were alive?"

Sam looked at him incredulously. "Are you _kidding_? Whenever I even _thought_ about doing anything like this you basically threatened to disown me."

Dean shrugged. "Well I was right, wasn't I?"

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"You should always listen to your big brother, Sam. I'm always right." Dean said absently. He was more focused on the paper in the air.

"Whatever." Sam said. "We should find some way to show Bobby what we found."

"Right." Dean agreed, turning his attention to Sam. The paper fluttered to the ground. "We should find an article about Greg's death and bring it to Bobby."

"Library?" Sam asked.

"Library." Dean agreed.

"You are _not _always right." Sam added under his breath.

"I heard that." Dean said. "And yes I am."

And with that, they were gone.

* * *

><p>They waited, of course, until after hours to go to the library. Sam was in nerd heaven, Dean could see. After a year of not being able to read, other than peeking over people's shoulder as they sat in the park, Sam looked like a kid in a candy store. Like he would be perfectly content spending the rest of eternity just reading every book in the place from cover to cover. Dean was a little less enthusiastic. He was more excited about the fact that he could move things with his friggin' mind. What a trip.<p>

"Come on, Sam. You're drooling all over the books."

Sam followed his brother to the newspaper archives. "I haven't been in a library in a long time." He retorted.

"Yeah. And you were homesick. Got it. We got work to do."

While Dean enjoyed leaning back in a chair and letting the different newspaper pages simply float in front of his face, Sam took the more traditional approach of simply setting the papers on a desk and fingering through them. Sam shot Dean a look.

"God, Sammy. You can't even have fun in your afterlife." Dean complained.

"Shut up." Sam replied. "I think I found something."

Dean let the current paper he was reading fall to the desk and looked over to Sam. "What is it?"

"An article about the school being closed down after a murder. Here we go. Gregory Davis. It's even got a photo of him."

Dean looked down to the familiar face on the page and smiled. "Yahtzee." He said. "Lets bring it to Bobby."

* * *

><p>Bobby was asleep on the couch when they showed up in his living room. He shivered at the slight temperature drop, but didn't wake up. There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the floor next to him, and he was snoring loudly. Either he was still taking their deaths rather hard, or there was something else going on. Sam wished he could talk to Bobby, but he knew that it was best if he didn't. Besides, they hadn't learned to manifest yet.<p>

"Put it on the laptop." Dean whispered, though there was no reason to. Bobby couldn't hear them. "He'll notice it there."

Sam nodded and placed the torn out newspaper article on top of Bobby's closed laptop. Bobby grunted and shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

"Now what?" Sam asked with a sympathetic look to Bobby.

"I guess we should go back to the school and make sure Greg doesn't kill anybody." Dean suggested.

* * *

><p>They went back to Bobby's once the sun started to rise. The night was uneventful. Nobody tried going into the building, including themselves. They had everything they needed from Greg Davis, and didn't feel like another confrontation with the angry spirit, so they stayed outside.<p>

Bobby was still asleep when they got back, which made sense since it was only 5:30 in the morning and Bobby had obviously had a couple drinks the night before. Dean paged through an Auto Trader magazine while they waited, and Sam looked through Bobby's files on Acham. _He probably misses research as much as he misses living,_ Dean thought with a snort, and Sam paused from his reading long enough to raise an eyebrow at the noise.

"Looks like Acham's been causing a lot of trouble." Sam said.

"Yeah, what else is new?"

"Why burn a hospital though? Why crash a plane? Look at this one," Sam read from the paper he held, "Twelve prisoners disappear from from Riverbend Maximum Security Institution in Tennessee. Why would Acham do something like that?"

"Why do demons do anything?" Dean asked. "Because they're dicks who think they can run around and do whatever they want."

Sam frowned. "It doesn't make sense."

On the couch, Bobby stirred. A moment later he was rubbing his eyes and stretching. Sam and Dean waited as he stumbled around the house. He went into the bathroom to shower, then to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and start breakfast. Dean tapped his toe impatiently as Bobby sat at the table drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper.

"Come _on._" Dean complained.

Finally, Bobby made his way to his desk. Even there, he paged through a couple books before going to the laptop. His hand reached toward it and he paused when he saw the newspaper clipping lying on top.

"What the hell?" Bobby said as he grabbed the paper and examined it. His eyes went wide when he noticed the photo and recognized the ghost who had attacked him at the school. Immediately he pulled out his cell. "It's me." He said into the phone. "I got a lead... yeah, his name's Gregory Davis. He was murdered in the school in 1943... yeah... I'm on it."

Bobby spent the afternoon doing research. With Davis' name, he was easily able to find death records online and the name of the cemetery where he was buried. When the sun began to set, Bobby packed the Impala and hit the road.

Sam sat on the hood and Dean leaned against the side of the car as they watched Bobby dig up Gregory Davis' grave at Riverside Cemetery, and for once Dean was grateful they were ghosts and Bobby didn't know they were there. At least they didn't have to help with the digging. Sam, on the other hand, looked like he was feeling bad for making Bobby do all the work. Dean just shook his head.

Bobby finished the salt and burn in no time, and then they were on their way back to the old school to make sure Davis was gone. Sam and Dean had went ahead and checked it out before Bobby got there, just to be safe. Sure enough, there was no sign of Greg, so they zapped back to the Impala and enjoyed the ride. They made sure to stay in the car when Bobby went in with the EMF, and ten minutes later Bobby came back out with a smile on his face. They rode back to Bobby's in the Impala, feeling pretty good about themselves. Basically, they had solved this one themselves. Hell, if they wanted to they could have salted and burned the bones on their own, but then Bobby would have never figured out what happened, and probably would have spent weeks going back to the school and looking for Davis' ghost.

_Next time,_ Dean promised himself. And there _would _be a next time. That night, as Bobby slept, Sam and Dean sat together in the Impala and talked about the hunt. It felt good to be back in it.


	4. Chapter 4

They spent the next few days at Bobby's. Sometimes Sam thought Bobby could sense that there was someone there, but mostly he just went about his daily business like normal. When Bobby went for a drive, or into town to do errands, Sam and Dean tagged along. Dean loved riding in the Impala. Sam knew how much the car had always meant to his brother, and he was glad that Dean had the opportunity to ride in it again. At night, they would always find themselves back at Bobby's house. Dean would sit in the driver's seat of the Impala and run his hands up and down the steering wheel. He missed driving it, and Sam thought that maybe if it weren't so loud, Dean could take it for a drive down some back road where there wouldn't be any other traffic – because how strange would it be for someone to see the car driving around with nobody behind the wheel? But the engine was loud and Bobby was a light sleeper. It wouldn't be a good idea. Sometimes Sam sat in the car with Dean, but mostly he stayed inside and looked through Bobby's notes, searched for another hunt.

The fourth day that Sam and Dean were at Bobby's, Bobby put on a suit and got in the Impala. Sam shot Dean a questioning look, but Dean didn't hesitate before jumping in the passenger seat next to Bobby. They drove for ten minutes before they came to a cemetery. It was a small, secluded place, hidden from the road by a row of evergreen trees. There were only a handful of graves, and it looked like nobody had visited the place in quite a while. Bobby pulled a bottle of whiskey from under his coat and stepped out of the car. Sam frowned and followed. Bobby walked to the corner of the cemetery. There, under a particularly tall pine tree, was a wide headstone. A thought occurred to Sam.

"Dean, what's the date?"

Dean shrugged.

As they closed in on the grave site, Sam could make out the carvings in the stone. There were no names, only letters and dates. In the center of the headstone, near the top, was a 'W'. Slightly below and on either side were the letters 'D' and 'S', and under that were dates. Under the 'D' it read 1979-2012, and under the 'S', 1983-2012. Sam blinked in surprise.

"Dean." He whispered. "This is where we're buried."

* * *

><p>When Cas sent them back to Earth, he warned that they could be killed by salting and burning their bones. Of course, that meant that their bodies hadn't been burned when they died as was tradition for hunters. Still, Dean was surprised to be standing in front of the place where they were buried. Why hadn't Bobby burned their bodies? It didn't make sense. Dean's jaw hung slack from shock, and then Bobby started talking.<p>

"I wish I knew where you boys ended up." The older hunter said softly. "I hope you're together in Heaven. That's what I like to think happened. I tried callin' Cas a few times, just to ask, but he never came." Bobby chuckled softly. "Dean, you always were the only one who could get his attention." He took a deep breath and continued. "You know I tried. I tried bringin' you boys back. I'm sorry I couldn't do it, but maybe you're happier where you are now. Things are really a mess down here. That dick Acham is smart, and I'm havin' a hard time keepin' up with him." He paused, and for a moment Dean though he was done, but then he went on. "I wish you boys were still around to help. It's just not the same without ya." Bobby shook his head and sighed. "I miss ya both." He said softly, and twisted off the lid of the whiskey and poured it over the grave.

With that, Bobby stepped away and shuffled back to the Impala. Sam and Dean stood there for a moment longer, looking down at the headstone that marked their grave. Maybe someday, years from now, someone would look down at the engraving on the stone and wonder what the letters stood for. Maybe they would wonder what ever happened to 'S' and 'D', and why they had both died in the same year, and at such a young age. They would never guess that under the vague headstone were the bones of two hunters who had saved the world so many years before. Soon enough, there would be nobody around to remember them.

"It's been a year." Sam said softly.

One year. What would happen when the world changed and evolved and everyone they had ever known was dead, but they were still around, roaming the earth as lost spirits. Would having each other still be enough? Dean shook his head to get rid of the thought. Sam would _always_ be enough.

"C'mon, Sammy." He rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Let's go back."

* * *

><p>After the cemetery in South Dakota, Sam and Dean left Bobby's. If they decided to keep hunting, they didn't need to be at Bobby's to do it, and in all actuality, were probably only making things more difficult for the man. Sam waited nearby and rolled his eyes as Dean said goodbye to the Impala, practically throwing himself over the hood in an over-dramatic gesture.<p>

Sam liked having somewhere to call 'home', so to speak. Being able to return to Bobby's every night had been refreshing, and Dean agreed that it wouldn't hurt to have a home base, so they popped in and out of remote areas until they found an old log cabin in Michigan. It was near a river and surrounded by trees. The inside was fully furnished, but the furniture was old and torn and a few windows were busted out. It was clear that nobody had lived there – or even visited – in a few years at least. There was a brick fireplace that Sam lit in the evenings. They couldn't feel the temperature, but it was the idea that he liked.

They spent the better part of most days at the cabin, though sometimes they would go to a beach for old times sake. At night, they would go to libraries or news stands and read up on current events. Sometimes, Sam would take a book from the library to read back at the cabin, but he always made sure to return it. Occasionally, they would head back to Bobby's and check to see if he had made any progress with Acham. Though they always had their eyes open for other hunts, their priority was Acham, and they were determined to help Bobby finish the son-of-a-bitch who had killed them.

It was two months later when they were sitting outside the cabin by the river, waiting for the sun to go down so they could go into town and search for some more leads. A sudden ruffling of leaves interrupted their conversation, and Dean looked over his shoulder to see the cause of the noise. He jumped up immediately and spun around.

"Cas?"

Sure enough, the angel was standing in a pile of leaves near the edge of the river, looking tired and beaten. His trench coat was torn, his hair was tousled, and his skin had a sickly pale color to it.

"Yes, it's me." Castiel said breathlessly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. I don't have much time." Cas reached in his pocket and pulled out a long, silver beaded necklace. At the bottom was an oval shaped pendant with a woman's face carved into it. A few more beads hung from the bottom of the pendant and attached to a crucifix. "Take this." He said, holding out the necklace.

Dean stepped forward and took the beads from Cas. "A rosary?" He asked

"It's the Rosary of the Virgin Mary." Cas explained with a sense of urgency in his voice. "With it, you can kill Acham."

"But we don't even know where he is." Sam interjected.

"You must find him. Acham _must _be stopped."

"Cas, what's going on?" Dean asked, taking a step toward the angel.

Cas looked to the sky like he heard a noise that Sam and Dean couldn't. When he spoke again, it was quiet and rushed. "Acham is attempting to free Lucifer and Michael from Hell. This will bring on the next apocalypse. Raphael is willing to let this happen." He stopped for a moment and listened to the sky, then put his hands on Sam and Dean's shoulders and recited a few words of Latin.

"What did you do?" Dean asked, but Castiel was distracted.

"I must go. I'll come to you again when I can. You must stop Acham." And with that, he was gone.

Dean turned the rosary in his hands. "What are we supposed to do with _this_?" He wondered aloud.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, but another apocalypse doesn't sound good."

Dean nodded and lifted the rosary to put around his neck.

"Wait!" Sam shouted, and Dean froze. "Don't you think that's a little dangerous? I mean, this is some sort of weapon from Heaven. You really think you should put it around your neck?"

Dean considered it for a moment, then stuffed the rosary into his pocket on the inside of his jacket instead. Alright, so they needed to find Acham – and soon. Cas was in trouble. He was rebelling against Raphael again, and once again the fate of the world hung in the balance. Dean was relatively surprised that Cas came to them for help, but was glad at the same time. They stopped the apocalypse once before, they could do it again.

"I guess we better get to work."

* * *

><p>The first place they went was Bobby's. It had been a few days since they had been there last, and maybe Bobby had some new information. It would be nice if they could actually <em>ask <em>Bobby if he had anything, because not everything was going to be nicely laid out in a newspaper and available for clipping and tacking to the wall, but that wasn't an option. Instead, they waited until Bobby was asleep and then began going through all the information he had gathered on Acham in the past year. Bobby mostly had saved a lot of articles on tragedies and unexplained disappearances that he must have thought Acham was behind. After an hour and a half, Dean was getting fidgety from too much research, and Sam was on his fourth file of unorganized information.

"Hold on." Sam said suddenly.

Dean stopped humming and looked to Sam expectantly. "_Please _tell me you found something."

"Each town that was affected had a storm sometime within the week prior to the incident."

"Right." Dean replied, unimpressed. "Common demonic omen. I don't see how–"

"Each town had an electrical storm." Sam interrupted. "And in each town, a church was struck by lightning. They lost power each time and had to shut down the churches for repairs. All of the incidents took place while one of these churches were out of order."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Nobody made a connection?"

"I'm sure nobody else would think that a bunch of escaped convicts would have anything to do with an electrical storm that happened a few days before. Or that the storms were related to fires or plane crashes days later." Sam pointed out. "Besides, they all took place in different towns. I doubt anyone even thought of connecting the incidents. They'd have to know what they were looking for."

Sam resorted to the computer to search for any recent electrical storms, and Dean went back to humming classic rock songs. Twenty minutes later, they had a lead.

"Here we go." Sam said excitedly, straightening his posture and turning the screen so Dean could see. "Massive electrical storm last night in Limon, Colorado. New Life Christian Church was struck by lightning, and Sunday's services will be held at the county park while the church undergoes repairs."

Dean fisted the air. "Nice work, Sammy. To Colorado, I guess."

"But we don't know how to use the rosary." Sam objected.

"Well, we'll just have to figure it out."

* * *

><p>Limon, Colorado was a small town. The majority of the 2,00 people who called Limon home lived on farms outside of city limits. The town itself was a nice little stop off Interstate 70, and the main road was lined with gas stations, cafes, and bars. Sam and Dean stood downtown next to an antique looking sign that read Cozy Cafe in large, red letters.<p>

"So where do we start?" Dean asked. He wondered how Cas was doing and hoped that the angel would show up soon and tell them how to use the rosary.

"I guess we just keep our eyes open." Sam answered.

"Whatever's going to happen, it could happen any time this week?"

"Basically, yeah. We'll just have to stick around and see what happens."

"In the mean time," Dean said. "We can do some research and try to figure out this rosary."

* * *

><p>After the little town fell asleep, Sam and Dean went to the library to look up the Rosary of The Virgin Mary. If they were lucky, they might find an article online explaining how the weapon should be used to kill demons. A lot of times, the lore on the internet is right, but this time all they found was a prayer containing the phrase '<em>Rosary of The Virgin Mary'<em>, rather than information on an actual object with demon killing powers. Their only hope was that Cas showed up in time to save the day.

Their third day in town, they were sitting in the Cozy Cafe watching out the window for suspicious activity – there wasn't much more they _could _do – when a loud, booming sound rattled the thin glass windows of the restaurant. Customers hid under tables and ran out the door to their vehicles. Outside, they could hear screaming and car alarms beeping and sirens in the distance coming closer.

"What the hell was that?" Dean jumped up from the table and rushed out to the street, Sam on his heels.

The sight outside was hard to take in. Just a couple blocks down, a fireball engulfed an entire block, sending thick, black blankets of smoke into the sky. Many of the windows on nearby buildings were shattered, cars were tipped over, and people were running around screaming for help or for for their loved ones. A block away, a woman wearing a white dress ran in circles screaming. Her dress was on fire.

Sam jumped into action and began running toward the explosion, but Dean stepped in front of him and held him back.

"We can't help them, Sam!" He yelled over the roar of the commotion. "There's nothing we can do. We _have _to find Acham. He has to be here."

Sam looked back to the scene in front of him. The firefighters had arrived and were working to put out the fire. Paramedics were assessing injured people on the street, and someone had thrown a blanket over the girl in the white dress. Dean was right. If they didn't stop Acham now, things like this would keep happening. They ran unseen through the crowd of people, frantically searching for the demon responsible.

Acham appeared in the middle of the fireball. His dark hair was combed neatly and he was wearing a business suit without a rip or smudge of dirt on it. He was increadibly out of place amongst the chaos, but people were too preoccupied to notice. Sam and Dean noticed though, and they quickly went to him before he disappeared into the dark, smoke-filled sky.

"Sam. Dean." Acham said nonchalantly once the boys were next to him. "It's nice to see you again."

Dean snorted. "Can't say the same about you. Last time we saw you, you tried to kill us."

"Ah, yes." Acham turned to look past Dean into the destruction he had caused. "And I thought I had done such a nice job. And yet, here you are." Acham turned his attention back to Sam and Dean and lowered his eyebrows as he concentrated on them. After a moment he amended, "It appears the job was done."

"We've come to repay the favor." Dean's jaw was clenched, his eyes narrow and threatening.

"Oh really?" Acham seemed once again uninterested in what Dean was saying. "How exactly do you plan on doing that?"

"With this." Dean pulled out the rosary and watched with satisfaction as Acham's eyes widened slightly. He quickly regained his composure.

"Now boys." He said. "Why don't we do this somewhere more private? People are starting to take notice."

Sure enough, people were looking with curiosity and confusion at the well dressed man standing in the middle of the disaster without a scratch on him.

"Or I could end this right now." Dean threatened.

Acham smiled. "I don't believe you know how to use that weapon." He said smugly. "Now, I could just disappear again. Give you boys some time to figure that thing out, and maybe you will be able to find me next time I'm in town. Or, you can come with me now and we can talk this over like adults." Acham didn't wait for an answer as he started walking away from the explosion.

"Son of a bitch." Dean said angrily under his breath, and turned to follow the demon.

* * *

><p>Acham lead them to a bar called Old Broadway. They walked through the empty building and into the kitchen. There, they followed Acham through a door and down a flight of stairs to a secluded room lit by a bare bulb hanging dimly from the ceiling. There were three other people in the room already, and all stood straight and stock still as Acham entered, like soldiers waiting for their orders. <em>Demons,<em> Sam thought, and shot Dean a sideways glance. Dean barely nodded in response. This was not good.

"Please, come in." Acham said with a wave of his arm. Sam and Dean entered the room cautiously. They had nothing but the rosary to use as a weapon, and Acham was right in that they didn't know how to use it.

"Dean." Sam whispered, but Dean ignored him as he took a step closer to Acham, holding out the rosary threateningly.

Acham looked at the silver crucifix and smirked. "What do you think you're going to do with that?"

"I'm going to kill you." Dean snarled.

"I don't think that's going to happen, Dean." Acham flicked his wrist and two of the Demons moved swiftly to Sam and held his arms roughly to restrain him from moving. In the same moment, Acham raised his hand and held it, palm out, facing Dean. He closed his eyes and began reciting Latin.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, and struggled to break free from the demons, but the Latin seemed to have no effect on Dean, and Sam calmed down and quirked an eyebrow.

Acham opened his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose. "Is that a protection sigil I smell?" He asked bitterly. "Teaming up with angels. That's so... like you."

Acham nodded and the two demons holding Sam released him and stepped back in place. Sam tensed, unsure of what to expect.

"I believe we are currently at an impasse." Acham looked down, then back at Dean with dark eyes. "It seems that the protection your angel friends have given you doesn't allow me to use my powers against you, and you don't know how to use your weapon. So you see, there's nothing more we can do here today." He paused and walked past Sam and Dean, closer to the door. "Until next time."

The three other demons followed Acham out the door and the heavy wood came closed behind them with a thud. Sam and Dean stood in place, unsure of what had just happened, or what to do next.

"All that for nothing." Sam said, a tone of disbelief and hatred in his voice.

Dean rolled his shoulders and pocketed the rosary again. "We'll get him next time." They went back to the street.

The firefighters now had the fire put out. All the injured and dead had been loaded up and taken to hospitals and morgues, and the bystanders were being held off by police and caution tape. The only thing left behind was the destruction and the scar that the tragedy would leave on the community. Sam ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"C'mon, Sammy." Dean said. "Let's go home."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks again for reading! Bonus points if you know why I picked Acham to be the demon in this story ;)<strong>

**(p.s. it has nothing to do with the plot of the story, really, I just didn't know what to name my demon)**


	5. Chapter 5

When they arrived back at the cabin in Michigan, the sun was just starting to go down. Realistically, it would be a good time to head to the library to do research, but they had already searched high and low for instructions on how to use the rosary and had come up with nothing. If only they could ask Bobby, Dean thought. Bobby could always find an answer.

Better yet, Cas could come back and fill them in on what exactly was going on so they wouldn't have to go into a fight blind. It had been six days since Cas had shown up and given them the rosary. Dean remembered how beat up Cas looked, and he worried about if Cas were even still alive. They could only wait for him to return, but in the mean time, what could they do? They could try to keep track of Acham's next move, but they weren't going in unprepared again.

Three days later, Cas showed up at the cabin. He was bleeding, and Dean caught him as he stumbled forward.

"Woah, Cas." He said, but the angel was unresponsive.

They checked Castiel over and found no knife wounds indicating that he had been stabbed with an angel's sword, so they were hopeful that he would be okay. After a couple hours, Cas stirred and sat up suddenly.

"I'm sorry." He said quickly. "I was wounded."

"It's alright, Cas." Dean answered. Despite everything that had happened between them, talking with Cas still felt natural. Sitting in a room discussing a hunt that could ultimately save the world felt familiar, and to Dean, it was like nothing had changed.

"I am able to stay this time." Cas said, glancing at the ceiling for good measure. "They can't find me here."

"You gave us protection sigils." Sam said.

"Yes." Castiel answered. "I embedded them in your soul. Much like the ones on your ribs while you were alive. No angel can find you, and no demon can use its powers against you."

"Thanks for that." Dean said with an upward nod. "Came in handy when Acham tried to kill us. He couldn't, and we didn't know how to use this," Dean pulled out the rosary, "So we just... left."

Cas eyed the rosary in Dean's hand. "You use it to bless holy water."

"You're kidding." Sam said. "That's it? We should have guessed that."

"Yes, that's it." Cas confirmed. "Any holy water blessed with the Rosary of The Virgin Mary will kill a demon."

Dean frowned. "So now what, wait for Acham to strike again?"

"No." Cas said. "Acham knows now that you have the weapon. He will try to kill you. He's looking for your bones."

Dean's stomach dropped at the words. Their bones were easily accessible. Surely Acham would have no trouble finding them. At this very moment, Acham could be digging up their grave. Any second could be their last. Dean suddenly felt anxious, like someone was holding a gun to his head and he was just waiting for them to pull the trigger.

"Don't worry." Cas said. "He hasn't found them yet."

"What do we do?" Sam asked, and Dean could hear the worry in his voice. He felt it, too. He was _not _going to lose Sam. Not again.

"You must find help." Cas said. "I believe that Bobby can be trusted."

"You want us to go to Bobby?" Dean shook his head in disbelief. "How? We can't... and what are we supposed to..."

"You need to get Bobby to move your bones, Dean. If Acham burns your bones, there's nothing I can do."

"Cas, what's going on up there?" Sam asked.

"Raphael wants another apocalypse, but he knows that other angels do not. He's letting Acham get away with what he's doing so that when the apocalypse happens, he can claim he didn't have any part in it. I am attempting to stop Acham, but Raphael doesn't want me to succeed. Now that you have the rosary, though, he will not kill me. He cannot find you without me."

Dean nodded, face set in determination. "We better get to Bobby's then. Hey, Cas, any tips on manifesting? We haven't figured that one out yet."

Cas frowned. "It is not my area of expertise. However, I believe all you need to do is concentrate."

"Right." Dean stood to leave, then paused and turned back to Cas.

"Cas." He said, and the angel tilted his head and looked up to Dean standing above him. "I never got to say thank you, so, thank you. For everything."

Cas nodded once, slowly. "You need to go."

* * *

><p>It was early afternoon when they appeared in Bobby's living room, and the older hunter was sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper and eating pizza.<p>

"Okay." Sam said, unsure. "Let's concentrate."

Dean rolled his shoulders and shook his arms as if he was preparing for a race, and Sam rolled his eyes. They both closed their eyes and several minutes later later they heard a crashing noise and then, "What the hell?"

Dean opened his eyes. Bobby was standing, shotgun in hand, aiming a little to Sam's right. The glass of milk he had been drinking was broken on the floor, and he was looking frantically around the room.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"I don't know." Sam replied. "I think he saw me for a second."

Dean closed his eyes again to concentrate.

When a whole minute passed and nothing happened, Dean opened his eyes again with an exasperated sigh. Bobby was still waiting, rifle aimed at nothing. Dean ran a hand through his hair and looked at Sam. Sam was still at it, but didn't seem to be making any progress. Then Bobby jumped again and pointed the shotgun more directly at Sam, only this time he recognized the flicker of a person.

"Sam?" The word was sharp and contained every ounce of fear, confusion, and wonder that Dean knew Bobby must be feeling. But Sam was, once again, invisible to Bobby and breathing heavy next to Dean.

"This is hard, man." Sam said through breaths. "I think it's going to take a while to get the hang of it."

"Yeah." Dean agreed. "And all we're doing is freaking Bobby out. Let's take a break, huh?"

Sam agreed and they resorted to watching Bobby, who was staring wide-eyed at the place where Sam had appeared. His breathing was fast and he had the shotgun half-raised as though he wasn't sure if he should try and shoot Sam should he appear again. It took him a full ten minutes to calm down. Eventually he set the shotgun back on the table and sat down, but continued to glance anxiously around the room. Finally, he spoke.

"Sam? Are you here?"

Sam looked surprised, then sad, and replied, "Yeah, Bobby, I'm here," but Bobby couldn't hear him.

* * *

><p>Sam and Dean stayed at Bobby's for the rest of the afternoon and early evening. A few more attempts at manifesting were unsuccessful, and just left Sam and Dean feeling tired and out of breath.<p>

Cas showed up just as the sun was setting. The angel looked even worse off than he had at the cabin earlier that day, and Dean couldn't see how that was possible without Cas being dead or at least unconscious on the floor.

"Cas?" Bobby said, eyes wide and full of emotion. Bobby hadn't seen the angel since before the boys had died. He had been alone now for so long, it was a lot to take in one day. First Sam and now Cas.

"Cas." Dean said. "We tried, but we couldn't do it."

"I know." Cas replied, and Bobby looked confused.

"Hello, Bobby." Cas said, and Dean could see clearly now the sick, pale tone of his skin and the bags under his eyes.

"Jesus, Cas. Are you okay?" Dean asked. Cas nodded once in response.

"Hey." Bobby answered Cas, still shocked at having him in his kitchen again after so long. But the man wasn't stupid, and he quickly concluded that seeing Sam earlier and Cas being here now might somehow be related. "I saw... I thought I saw Sam earlier... Is he..."

"They're here." Cas answered, collapsing into a chair and putting his face in his hands.

"They?" Bobby stammered "Is.. is Dean, too...?"

Cas nodded. "They're right here." He waved a hand in Sam and Dean's direction and Bobby squinted his eyes as if he could see if he just tried a little harder.

"So... so they're... ghosts then?"

"Yes." Cas answered. "They weren't originally. I brought them back to Earth as spirits."

Bobby exhaled sharply and sat down in the chair opposite Cas, running his hand over his face. After a moment, he spoke. "What's going on? Why are they... why are you all here _now_?"

"I gave them a weapon to kill Acham." Cas explained. "But Acham knows they're after him and he's looking for their bones so he can burn them and kill Sam and Dean."

Bobby almost looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have buried them. I didn't–"

Cas cut him off. "It doesn't matter now. We need to get the bones before Acham does."

"Right." Bobby said. "'Course. We can go now." He stood quickly, but Cas put up a hand to stop him.

"You can't go to the bones." Cas' eyes widened. "The house is being watched. A demon under Acham's command."

"Damn it." Bobby cursed under his breath.

"What do we do?" Dean asked.

"I don't know." Cas looked to the ceiling and frowned. "I can't stay here. They'll find you." And without another word he was gone.

The room was silent for a beat, then Bobby sank back into the chair and pulled off his baseball cap. "I'm sorry, boys." He whispered, but Sam and Dean couldn't console him.

Bobby worked through the night, and Sam and Dean stayed by his side. Now that he knew they were there, he didn't carry the nervous tension that Dean had always noticed whenever he and Sam were around. Also, Bobby was talking to them now. As he searched the internet for ways to hide from the demon, or racked his brain for a solution, he would update them occasionally or just subtly mention how he missed them. It seemed cruel to leave now without Bobby knowing they had gone.

Just because they couldn't manifest, Dean realized, didn't mean they couldn't show Bobby they were there. He wasn't sure, though, if floating objects around the room would really be any help to Bobby.

"I don't know." Sam protested. "What's the point? It'll just freak him out."

"Oh, come on, Sam. Bobby's a big boy. He's not going to get scared over a couple ghosts." Dean pointed out. "Besides, he knows it's us."

They decided it wouldn't hurt. Just once, just to let Bobby know they were still there. In the end, Dean ended up carrying a beer to Bobby. Bobby watched, mouth hanging open, as the bottle floated to him and landed gently on the desk. He picked it up and examined it carefully.

"Thanks." He said finally.

After that they left Bobby alone, except periodically when Bobby would pause and hesitantly ask, "you still here?", and Sam or Dean would move something in the room just to show Bobby that they were.

It was sometime in the early morning, the sun was just beginning to paint the sky a pale yellow, when Bobby sapped his fingers and announced, "Got it."

Sam and Dean were ready and listening, and though Bobby couldn't see his audience, he talked to the empty room like they were there.

"I was trying to figure out a way to sneak past the demon and get to your, uh... bones, but we don't have to. I can call my buddy Ray. We can trust him and he owes me a favor. He can get the bones and bring them here, and we can put them in the panic room. They'll be safe there."

"That's good, Bobby." Sam confirmed, and Dean nodded in agreement.

Bobby was quiet for a moment, as if giving them a chance to answer, then he pulled out his phone and left the room to dial Ray.

Ray showed up a few hours later, muddy and grumbling about digging graves in the daylight.

"Quit your whining, Ray." Bobby said, ushering Ray quickly into the house. "Nobody goes to that spot and you know it."

"Yeah, yeah." Ray answered, digging in his bag and pulling out a somewhat smaller bag tied at the top with a thick rope. He held it up and gave Bobby a questioning look. "What do you want with a couple sets of bones, anyway? If it's a ghost problem, I coulda just salted and burned 'em for ya."

So apparently Ray wasn't as trustworthy as Bobby made him out to be. Bobby neglected to mention that he was actually _helping_ a couple ghosts, and not hunting them. It was probably for the best, Dean decided. Hunters were usually unpredictable. Sometimes you think you can trust someone, but they react completely differently than you expected. Bobby wasn't willing to take that risk when it came to Sam and Dean.

"No." Bobby said, holding his hand out for the bag containing their bones. "Thanks for digging 'em up, Ray, but this is kind of a private family matter."

Ray raised his eyebrows and looked at the bag he held curiously. He gave it one shake and then shrugged and held it out for Bobby. Bobby took it carefully, then gave Ray a hard stare.

"Alright, alright." Ray said after a moment, putting his hands up defensively. He took a step back toward the door. "You do a guy a favor." He mumbled as he closed the door behind him.

Bobby waited until he heard the growl of Ray's truck before turning and making his way quickly but carefully down to the panic room. Once inside, he set the bag in the corner and threw a blanket over it. Turning back to face the door, he said, "I suppose you boys can't come in here." He looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time, then sighed heavily and dragged his feet back up the stairs.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks again for reading! <strong>

**Nobody guessed it, but Acham is actually the demon of Thursday. Haha, I didn't know what to name him so I was looking up different demons online and I came across Acham. I thought it was funny so I went with him. Just an interesting fact! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

After they were sure of the safety of their bones – there was no place safer than Bobby's panic room, Sam thought – and the threat of Acham finding and burning them was, for now, gone, Sam and Dean returned to the cabin in Michigan and spent an entire day making holy water blessed by the rosary Cas had given to them. Cas hadn't been specific on how much they would need exactly, if just a splash would do the trick or if they needed to soak Acham in it, so they prepared for the latter. Better to be safe than sorry, Sam thought as he filled yet another gallon jug full of the deadly weapon.

"This is stupid." He said as he and Dean carried another batch of water into the cabin. "We can't bring all these jugs with us when we go find Acham."

"Perks of being a ghost, Sammy." Dean said as he hoisted his jug onto the counter where a mess of filled gallons already covered just about every inch of the surface. "If we need more, we can zap back here and grab some and then zap back to the fight before Acham even knows we left."

Dean was right. Sam looked around the kitchen. "Yeah." He said. "But don't you think we have enough? We should be figuring out Acham's next move."

Dean also took a good look around the kitchen and nodded his agreement. "I suppose this will do the trick."

Outside, the sun was just starting to set through the trees. "Library?" Sam asked.

"Sounds like a plan." Dean agreed.

* * *

><p>Dean found himself, once again, in a dark library searching through recent newspapers for reports of electrical storms around the country, and it occurred to him that he was doing more research as a hunter-ghost than he ever had when he was alive. He never liked the research part of the job; that had always been Sam's area of expertise. He sighed and discarded another newspaper onto the ever-growing pile next to him. Sam looked up from the computer as Dean reached for the next paper.<p>

"Something wrong?" He asked.

"No." Dean said. "Just want to kill this s-o-b."

Sam pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded once. "We will." He said confidently.

Almost an hour passed in silence before Sam spoke up again.

"Here we go."

Dean leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. Though he couldn't feel it now, he was sure that sitting hunched over the desk for the past couple hours would have made his muscles sore if he were alive. "Please tell me you got something."

"Basically the same thing as Limon." Sam confirmed. "Lightning struck a church in Rockport, Arkansas, and it's closed for business until they do some repairs. You think it's Acham?"

"Sounds like." Dean clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's get there."

* * *

><p>It was hard to forget the colossal failure of the last time they had tracked Acham to an innocent town. The only difference Sam and Dean had made by being there was giving Acham a heads up on the weapon that they now possessed to kill him with. Now, as they walked down a quiet street in Rockport, Arkansas, all Sam could think about was Limon, and all the people who were killed for what seemed like no point at all. No matter how hard he tried, Sam couldn't come up with an explanation as to why Acham was targeting these towns, or what he was getting out of it. It made him nervous though – as they walked through the town, passing shops with neon signs and houses with brightly lit windows – that Acham's next strike could come at any moment, and any one of the people inside these buildings could be dead in a matter of seconds.<p>

"We have to find him before anything happens." Sam said. They paused on a corner next to a bakery and Dean glared at the building suspiciously. They were both on edge, just waiting for the inevitable.

"Yeah." Dean grunted his agreement and turned to peer warily across the street. "Keep your eyes open."

Two entire days passed in Rockport, and Sam started to think that the whole lightning striking the church incident was just a freak coincidence. The repairs were almost done anyway, and if the church had anything to do with it – and Sam was more than confident that it did – then whatever Acham was planning needed to happen soon or not at all.

"You know, it could be an airplane crash." Dean said, frowning at the sky. Acham had already played that card, and there was no reason to suspect that he wouldn't do it again. "We wouldn't be able to see that one coming until it was on top of us... literally."

Sam followed Dean's gaze upward. A few soft, white clouds spotted an otherwise blue sky. He imagined an airplane falling to the earth, streaking the sky with fire and smoke. He imagined the massive explosion as the plane crashed into the bank they were sitting in front of, or the school down the street. He could see the people screaming, the fire. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"Let's hope it's not." He said.

Sam was apprehensive and on edge after two days of waiting, and he could tell that Dean's nerves were frayed as well, both of them jumping at the smallest sign of danger; the bang of an old engine backfiring, a child's scream as she's chased around the swing set by a classmate. It was getting ridiculous, and Sam was ready for the fight.

He didn't have to wait much longer.

It was early morning on the third day when they rounded a corner and Sam came to an abrupt stop. Dean stopped, too, and turned to give Sam a concerned look.

"What?" He asked.

Sam nodded forward, eyes locked on a point behind Dean, and Dean spun around to follow Sam's gaze. There, across the street, standing in front of an old, brick factory, _smiling _at them, stood Acham. Sam knew the moment Dean saw Acham because his whole body tensed and his hands clenched into fists.

Acham waved, and then the building exploded.

"No!" Sam shouted, darting forward.

"Sam!" Dean called after him, following his brother across the street toward the burning factory.

People were already making their way out of surrounding buildings to investigate the noise. Some of them were screaming, some were on their cell phones, some were running away from the fire, and some were running toward it. Sam was aware of Dean following close behind him, shouting his name, but all he could see was Acham. The demon was standing at the edge of the fire with one hand outstretched in front of him, examining his fingernails like he was simply waiting for Sam to reach him and was completely bored with the task.

As Sam closed in on Acham, he reached in his back pocket and pulled out a small, silver flask of holy water. Dean shouted his name again. Acham grinned. Maybe, if Sam had been in the presence of mind to think things over first, he would have realized that something was wrong. Acham knew about the rosary. He knew that they wouldn't have come to find him again unless they had learned how to use it, but he wasn't afraid of Sam running toward him with the flask. As it was, Sam wasn't thinking of any of that. The only thought in his mind was revenge. Revenge for all the people Acham had killed in the past year, himself and Dean included. Kill the demon. Get revenge.

A few more strides and Sam began screwing off the top of the flask. His plan was simple. Get to Acham, throw on the holy water. If it wasn't enough, surely it would at least be distraction enough to buy him a couple seconds to get to the cabin and get some more. Suddenly though, two men stepped out of the fire on either side of Acham, eyes flashing black. They reached out for Sam with strong, unyielding arms and caught him before he could reach their boss. Caught off guard by the sudden jolt, Sam lost his grip on the flask and it clattered harmlessly to the ground, spilling onto the pavement.

Sam cursed and struggled against the demons' hold, but they were unmovable, and Sam's attempts to break free were getting him nowhere.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam demanded as Acham stepped closer.

Dean was there now and one of the demons holding Sam automatically let go and grabbed onto Dean. The other demon easily compensated for the loss of support, and Sam wasn't any closer to breaking free. They were both trapped.

"You were going to try and kill me." Acham said with a frown. "You didn't think I was going to just stand back and let you do it, did you?"

"I mean _that_." Sam tossed his head toward the flaming building. "The explosions and the plane crashes and the murders. What's the point?"

"Well, for one, it's fun." Acham answered. He smirked and circled Sam, running his fingers over Sam's shoulder as if examining him. "But I suppose that's not really the reason. I thought you would have had it figured out by now, Sam. You're supposed to be the smart one, aren't you?"

"Sam." Dean's voice came from behind, sharp and warning. Sam tried to turn his head, but the demon holding him jerked him violently and he stumbled forward before being pulled upright again.

"It's the souls." Acham said, stopping his circling to look Sam in the eye. "It's always about the souls, and there are power in numbers."

"You're taking their souls?"

"That's right." Acham said, beaming like he had just taught Sam a new trick that he had been working long and hard on perfecting. "I'm building an army. The next apocalypse will soon be upon us, and with an army of fresh souls, I can't lose."

"You can't just steal people's souls." Dean said from behind. "Not everyone is going to Hell."

"That is correct, Dean." Acham said, turning his attention behind Sam. "And unfortunate. See, I don't have the time to wait around for the number of souls I need to just die. Well, time, yes. Patience, no. So I had to come here and push a few in the right direction. Convince them that maybe Hell isn't the worst thing that could happen to them."

"You're making deals?" Sam said incredulously. "You get their soul and what do they get in return, an early death?"

"The key is in the timing." Acham said, holding up a finger and stepping backwards toward the factory.

He snapped his fingers and the world stopped. Behind Acham, the flames of the building were frozen in the air. People who had been running a second ago, screaming, were now still as statues. Acham walked up to a man who was laying on the ground. Before Acham had frozen time, the man had been on fire, his leg pinned beneath a heavy wooden board, his face contorted in pain. Acham touched him and he came back to life, his screams filling the otherwise quiet streets. Acham touched the man again and his screams stopped, though he remained on fire. He looked up at Acham with terrified, pleading eyes.

"Help me." He begged.

"I _will_ help you." Acham said. "But I need something in return."

"Anything." The man said.

"You're going to die. I can save you from the pain, all I need is your soul."

The man's eyes widened.

"Don't do it!" Sam shouted, but Acham raised a hand and Sam's voice was gone. He could do nothing but watch as the scene played out in front of him.

"I... I cant... I don't..." The man stammered.

"You have a choice, of course." Acham said. "If you refuse, you will continue to burn until the end of your life, and you will feel every second of it." He almost sounded sympathetic.

The man's eyes welled with tears. "But my family." He choked.

"I'm sorry." Acham said. "I need a decision."

The man swallowed quickly as his panic rose, memories of the fire still fresh in his mind. "I'll do it."

Acham smiled and touched the man for a third time and he turned back into a statue. Acham turned to face Sam and Dean, and the invisible restraints on Sam's vocal chords disappeared.

"It's that simple."

"They can't _all_ say yes." Sam felt sick.

"Of course not." Acham waved a hand dismissively. "You win some, you lose some. But you'd be surprised at how many _do_ say yes. You would be _shocked_ at just how many are willing to spend an eternity in Hell in order to be spared a few seconds of pain on Earth."

"We won't let you get away with this." Sam spat.

"Ah, yes." Acham said cheerfully. "Which brings us to our next order of business." He took a step closer to Sam, rubbing his hands together.

"What are you doing?" Dean demanded. "Leave him alone!"

"It was a setback, I admit, to find that your angel friend put a protection sigil on you to stop me from killing you." Acham said. "You would have gone to Purgatory most likely, and unfortunately I have no jurisdiction there. However, being the new, unofficial king of hell, I am perfectly capable of claiming what is rightfully mine. Now you, Dean, I can't do anything about. But you, Sam." Acham reached for Sam's forehead, palm out. "Your soul belongs to Hell, Sam. And that's where it should be."

Acham touched Sam's forehead and Sam flinched away from the heat of it. Distantly, Sam could hear Dean yelling his name, but then it was gone, and all that remained was fire.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<br>**

**How about that season 7 promo? Man, I cannot wait.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Sam!" Dean shouted as his brother flickered and then disappeared in front of him. He struggled against the demon's hold but it was useless. Even if he could break free, what could he do? Sam was gone.

It was so _stupid_. They had been given a second chance. Okay, it wasn't like being alive, not by a long shot, but they were together and they were safe and Sam.._. _Sam was in Hell now because Dean couldn't keep his stupid nose out of trouble. They just _had_ to try and get back into hunting. They _had _to get Acham. They couldn't just take the gift Cas had given them and be happy with it. Dean blinked back a sudden onset of tears and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"You son-of-a-bitch." He growled. "I'll kill you.

"That's where you're wrong, Dean." Acham said dismissively, turning back toward the frozen flames. "You won't do anything. You've always be a step behind me, and now that your brother is back where he belongs, I doubt you'll be able to keep up at all."

Acham began walking toward the building, ignoring Dean's threats. Dean slumped, defeated. The demon holding him laughed.

There was a fluttering sound and Raphael was suddenly standing in front of Acham. Acham froze, and the demon holding Dean stopped laughing.

"Raphael." Acham said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"This has gone too far." Raphael said.

"Too far?" Acham repeated. "I thought we had an understanding."

"The other angels have begun to take notice." Raphael said seriously, turning his head toward the sky. "You need to be made an example of."

Acham put his hands up in a defensive gesture and took a step back. "Now, now, Raphael." He said cautiously. "Let's talk about this. We had a deal."

"The deal is off." Raphael said with a smug smile as he followed Acham's retreat, hand raised and ready to smite.

Acham took one more step backward and then stopped, lowering his arms to his sides. "Very well." He said. "It's unfortunate that it had to come to this." And with one, swift motion, Acham pulled an angel sword seemingly out of nowhere.

Dean blinked and his eyes widened in shock. The demon next to him was laughing again. Before Raphael even realized what had happened, Acham stepped forward, sword outstretched in front of him. Raphael was quick, though, and he sidestepped. He managed to avoid a fatal blow, but Acham's sword pierced through Raphael's arm, and the archangel brought a hand up to the wound in disbelief.

"You will suffer for this, demon." Raphael growled, and reached out for Acham once again.

This time, Raphael's hand found it's mark, and Acham threw his head back and screamed at the sky. Acham should have died instantly. It was the way Dean had seen it work before, angels smiting demons, but seconds passed and Acham continued to scream. Raphael smiled. True to his word, he wasn't letting Acham go easily. He was making him suffer.

Dean's jaw dropped in disbelief as he watched Acham lift the angel sword behind his back. Raphael was distracted, too confident, believing that he had already won. Acham plunged the blade forward and Raphael stumbled backwards, taking his hand of Acham's forehead in favor of clutching his stomach where he had been stabbed. He looked up at Acham, an expression of pure disbelief on his face, then fell backwards onto the ground. A second later, a bright light erupted from the angel.

Dean turned his head to shield his eyes from the blinding light. When everything was quiet again, he looked back to the scene in front of him. Raphael was on the ground, unmoving, a dark pair of wings burned into the sidewalk on either side of him. Acham was on his knees, panting and clutching his head. The demon to Dean's left still had an iron hold on him.

"Holy shit." Dean muttered. It figured. The one time he was actually glad to see Raphael show up, the damn angel went and got himself killed. He swallowed hard and waited for whatever was going to happen next.

Acham began staggering to his feet, the angel sword forgotten on the ground next to him. He took an unsteady step forward and then there was another fluttering sound and Castiel stood in front of Acham.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, surprised and relieved.

Acham looked at the angel sword on the ground, but Castiel was faster than the injured demon and he picked it up before Acham had a chance.

"You must be Castiel." Acham panted. "I've heard much about you. Mostly that you are too attached to these pathetic humans." He paused to catch his breath. "Think about it, Castiel. Together we could rule Heaven, Hell, and everywhere in between."

Cas frowned and narrowed his eyes. "The Winchesters are my friends." He said simply. "And you killed them."

Acham was quiet for a long moment, only the sound of his heavy breathing filling the silence. "Nothing personal?" He said finally, gritting his teeth against his pain.

Cas tilted his head to one side as though he didn't understand what Acham meant. Then, without another word, reached out and placed a hand on Acham's forehead. It was quick this time, and Acham dropped to the ground. The demon holding Dean erupted out of his host, and the human left over fell to the ground, too. The chaos that had been frozen in time leapt back to life behind Castiel.

"The demon Acham has been killed." Castiel announced.

"Yeah." Dean said, glancing at the ground again in disbelief. "He got Sam, though, Cas, he sent him back to Hell."

Castiel turned to face Dean. Their eyes met for a moment, Dean's pleading, and then Cas was gone.

"Damn it." Dean cursed, running a shaky hand through his hair. He surveyed the damage around him and had to fight back tears as he thought about Sam. They had been so close. In the end, Acham was dead, but Dean didn't care anymore. He was alone again. A single tear escaped and rolled quietly down his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, and then he was back at the cabin.

* * *

><p>Dean wasn't sure how much time he spent just sitting by the river behind the cabin, watching the water bubble over the rocks and dragonflies dart back and forth just above the surface. By the time Dean headed back to the cabin, the sun was practically gone, just enough left to color everything an eerie shade of blue. He didn't plan on staying at the cabin. Soon he would move on to something else. Maybe he would go back to hanging out on random beaches, maybe he would visit Bobby. He kind of doubted it, though. Hell, maybe he <em>would<em> become an angry spirit after all. He wouldn't kill anyone, but he would cause just enough trouble to get the attention of some hunters. Maybe Purgatory wouldn't be so bad. Or maybe he would go to Hell. It didn't matter either way. Dean sighed heavily as he opened the door to the cabin. His bones were at Bobby's, locked away safe in the panic room. Getting away from this... afterlife, or whatever it was, was going to be a challenge.

Dean stepped through the cabin door and froze. Castiel was standing just inside the kitchen with a concerned look on his face, and there, in the chair next to him, was Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, unsure. "Cas? What..."

"Cas came to the rescue... again." Sam explained.

Dean looked to Castiel. The angel nodded. "With Acham out of the way, it was easy for me to find Sam's soul in Hell and bring him back to Earth."

Dean blinked. "And you let me sit out by the river for hours!" He demanded. "Damn it, you could have come and gotten me."

"Relax, dude, we just got back." Sam said, standing and walking to Dean to clap a hand on his shoulder.

Dean looked to Cas. "Thanks, Cas." He said. Then, to Sam, "If you _ever _pull a stunt like that again, I swear I'll–"

"What?" Sam laughed. "Kill me?"

"Yeah, yeah." Dean grumbled. "You'll wish you were dead... or whatever." And he turned and pulled his brother into a hug.

* * *

><p>They showed up at Bobby's sometime in the late evening. Bobby was sitting at his desk with a bottle of whiskey, frowning at the headlines on his computer. He looked up at Castiel and exhaled sharply, a thin line of worry creasing his forehead.<p>

"Did they..."

"Acham is dead." Cas said.

"And the boys?"

"They're here." Cas said, and reached to either side of him. He touched them both on the shoulder and Bobby's eyes widened. He stumbled to his feet and took a step closer, eyes welling with tears.

"Sam. Dean." He choked. "It's good to see you."

"Hey, Bobby." They both replied.

Bobby took another step and reached toward Dean. "Can I..." His voice trailed off as his fingertips brushed Dean's sleeve. In the next instant he was pulling them both into a hug.

"Good to see you, too." Sam said.

Bobby released them and took a step back, studying them. "You did it." He said after a moment. "You killed Acham."

"Not exactly." Dean admitted. "Acham was ready for us. Raphael showed up, but Acham killed him. Cas had to finish the job." Dean tossed his head toward Cas and Bobby looked at the angel.

"Raphael is dead?"

"Yes." Castiel said.

"So now what?" Bobby asked. "Who's in charge? Is it you, Cas?"

"I believe I have enough followers." Castiel said. "And I doubt that any of Raphael's followers will object now that they know what Raphael was up to."

"And you boys?" Bobby asked, nodding to Sam and Dean.

"Cas is bringing us with him to Heaven." Sam said. "Both of us."

"Yes." Castiel confirmed. "I believe they will be useful in helping me maintain control."

"Hear that?" Dean smirked. "We're going to help rule Heaven."

"Technically, no." Castiel interjected. "A human soul cannot rule Heaven. You will simply work with me."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Details."

Castiel frowned but didn't press the issue. Instead he turned again to Bobby. "Sam and Dean wanted to say goodbye, and to assure you of your spot in Heaven when your time comes."

Bobby blinked. "You're saving me a seat?"

"Yep." Dean smacked Bobby on the shoulder affectionately.

"I don't know what to say. Thank you."

Castiel nodded once. "It's time to go." He said.

"Call if you need us." Dean said. "We'll be there."

Castiel frowned. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

Dean shrugged. "We'll work on it."

Bobby took a step back and put a hand up in a silent wave goodbye.

"Take care of yourself, Bobby." Sam said.

"See you around." Bobby answered.

"Not too soon, though." Dean added.

Castiel reached up with both hands and touched Sam and Dean on the shoulder, and then they were in the garden. The same garden Dean had found himself in over a year ago, after Acham had killed him. It looked the same. The weeping willows and the wildflowers. A soft breeze rustled the leaves and Dean could actually _feel_ the coolness of it. He had forgotten what Heaven was like. Here, they could feel things and eat burgers and drink beer and drive the Impala.

"We're here." Castiel announced after a moment of silence.

"Yeah." Dean said. "Thanks, Cas."

"Thank you, Cas." Sam agreed.

Castiel nodded. "I need to go speak with the other angels." He said. "I'll come find you later."

And then Cas was gone. The garden was gone, too, and all that was left was a road. Dean turned and smiled at the Impala's black metal shining in the low light. He pulled the driver's door open and paused to grin at his brother leaning across the roof on the other side.

"C'mon, Sammy." He said. "I'll show you around."

**END**

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><p><strong>Well, that's it! I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!<br>**


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